This was originally inspired by a dream I had. Basically about a relationship that cannot be because the boundaries of hell and heaven and earth. Please Read! My writing may not be the best- it's been a while since I've written a story and not poetry.

It
had been two years now. Two years since she had seen him, since she
had kissed him, since she had felt his arms around her, since she had
heard his voice, and since she had been with the man she loved. He
had left her quickly, quietly, with promises of love and commitment,
and he left her with hope for tomorrow. Sara sighed softly as she
looked at the calender. Today was they're four year anniversary.
She knew it was time for her to listen to her friends, and that she
should believe them, she knew she had to move on in her life. She'd
had to face it, Joe was gone, he was dead. But for now, she would
just spend one more day without him, one more day missing him, one
more day loving him.

"Love,
you have to let him go. He's dead, you know." Mick whispered,
placing a sweater on her shoulders. Sara looked away from him as she
snuggled closer into the sweater. She was always cold. Ever since
she had left, she seemed to have caught a chill, one that she never
could get rid of. She told herself that it was just the wet weather
of London.

"You
don't understand"

"Sure.
I don't. But I love you, and I care for you, so I can't bear to
see you do this to yourself." He argued as he opened a cabinet and
grabbed a hunter green coffee mug. He poured himself a cup of
coffee. He offered her a cup, she motioned to her own, and that it
was full. Grabbing the sugar, he sat down next to her at the little
round table. "Love," he said as grasped her hand, and waited fo
her to look back into his eyes, "He's gone."

She
looked away quickly, pulling her hand from under his, and got up from
the table, placing her cup in the sink. "Mick, I thank you for
supporting me as much as you have, you have put up with this more
than any person should. But please, why don't we agree to disagree
this time. You know we always fight over this. So let's just..."
She looked back at him, with a smile on her face, tears in her eyes.
"Tell me, how did that date go with that cute instructor from the
gym?"

Mick
blushed. "Don't change the subject now." He got up and crossed
the room, placing his hands on her shoulders. Giving them a light
squeeze, he continued "Putting this off won't make it any
easier."

"I
know, I know. Just please, give me a little more time." and she
walked out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, pulling the sweater
closer, as the door shut softly. Sara knew in all perfect logic and
knowledge that he was gone, and even if he wasn't dead, he wasn't
coming back for her. She had to move on. Her head knew that. But
someone forgot to tell her heart. Sara still ached for him, and felt
nothing for the few blind dates she had been coerced into by friends.
Try as she might, she couldn't forget him. Turning on the water
for the shower, she began to cry.

Mick's
gaze lingered on her bedroom a little longer than necessary. He
hated knowing she was crying in there. She was always crying in
there. And because of that, he was not allowed in her room. She
hated people to see her cry. Mick, the good best friend that he was,
did his best to respect her wishes. But even he knew, she was close
to cracking, and he hated Joe for it. It was his fault after all.
His thoughts were cut short by a ring at the door. Sara's shower
was going steady, so Mick resigned and rose to answer it.

"Listen,
I'm sorry, but I can't really give you anything-" Mick stopped
short when his eyes fell on the person at the door. He was tall, and
dark, dressed in a dark long Joeet, worn, just as his slacks. He
looked overall worn and beaten down. If Mick hadn't looked twice,
he would have though he was a bum looking for a handout. But Mick
knew better, and he saw who it really was. His eyes narrowed. "What
are you-"

"You
know, maybe I shouldn't have come here" the man interrupted, and
turned to leave.

"Don't
you go anywhere," Mick hissed, grabbing his elbow. "Why did you
come? Now, on all of these days?"

"Look,
I can't stay, I shouldn't be here- I shouldn't have even rung
the bell, I wasn't thinking-"

"That's
right, you weren't thinking, and now, that wonderful woman is
wasting away in that room of her's, just waiting for you! You, of
all people!"

The
man looked up, his eyes alight "Don't speak of things, you know
nothing of!" He turned to leave, but then seemed to change his
mind, paused and turned back to Mick, his eyes racing with thought
and rage. "Tell her... Tell her I'm sorry- actually, don't
tell her I was here, just... Take care of her." And he was gone.

Mick
sighed as he went back into the house and leaned against the door.
How could he keep this from her? With her eyes so clear and honest.
The bastard didn't deserve her, and she didn't deserve to be
treated like this. He sighed again, and muttered "Straight people
are crazy"

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